User blog:GalaxE/The Cosmic Perspective -- (Pretty Much Random) GGaD Writing by Galaxian
Organization method is big WiP. There are different numbered parts to each Point of View. Information such as location and date will be in italics underneath title of each part. This is essentially a story to add more light to my characters and what they do/how they act in the roleplay itself, et cetera. Hopefully I can find a better description sometime in the future. Anyhow, hope you enjoy! ' Part I--Galaxian ' In a Small Cottage, Medieval Sect. Date April Fifteenth, Year Two Thousand Nineteen. '' The boisterous rapping sound at the edge of the already-battered window was making Galaxian’s bones quake. At least, what he ''thought were his bones. Heaving a humongous sigh, he leapt over the creaking wooden planks and flung the window open, only to prevent the house from breaking apart after the window. The falcon nearly flew into his face, diving away half a millisecond just before he sent both bird and deity crashing to the floor; Galaxian was ninety-eight-point-nine-eight percent sure Hayato had done that on purpose. It also happened to be these “sometimes” where Galaxian completely forgot the falcon had been the one to land on his shoulder in the first place, and not vice versa. Alright, if he had landed on the falcon’s shoulder—did falcons have shoulders, anyhow?—he would have no problem with having to deal with this. As a matter of fact, though, he only had to deal with this particularly whenever he sent Hayato to deliver a message. For instance, at the current moment, the falcon was preening his feathers while shooting Galaxian a two-second reminder that he was not a messenger bird. The young deity was very glad that the bird seemed to be taking it out on him. Because that meant the bird hadn’t taken it out on Kenshin and Rune, or so he hoped. Ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from the gold eyes, he went back to moping in the corner—or he should say, mopping in the corner. After a minute of nice silence, Hayato finally cracked open an eye towards the god, who was hurriedly scraping the cracked wooden surface of his desk with a torn cloth. And…the next thing Galaxian knew, he felt the very familiar sensation of a blunt tapping of the falcon’s beak on his right shoulder. He nearly yelped in imitation of pain, until he remembered it wasn’t the usual. “What’d you do that for?” he hissed quietly instead. Hayato gave him a look that wasn’t very comprehensible. Sighing, he switched on the cosmic telepathy. What? he asked again. The falcon didn’t seem to like the fact that he’d switched the power on without informing his companion first, because he received another peck. You humans are crybabies, came the response. Deities, or whatever. You’re all humans, and crybabies. That’s not very fair to say. I don’t cry all the time, Galaxian muttered, meanwhile staring at the cloth, which was already bled through. Useless. Like his heart—bled through; useless. Feelings, like love, couldn’t change the world. He was trying to leave that useless part behind, but it was so hard. But now, he had done it. He had voluntarily removed two of his closest from his side, albeit with cowardice, but all the same. But his failure was still there—the dagger and the katana failed to shatter. That meant…his feelings were still there. Only denied. Merely being denied wasn’t going to help him any. A peck came, on the same mark. Galaxian was pretty sure the cloth was torn by now. Are you listening? Now I am, he sighed, rubbing the spot. Hayato hopped onto his opposite shoulder, his talons digging in, which would have been painful for others, but Galaxian felt nothing. However, he’d much rather feel physical pain than the mental torture he was experiencing. Are those two that important to you? The deity didn’t answer. The deity earned another mark on the side of his neck, a result of a certain falcon’s impatience. They’re comrades, he replied, desperately keeping his feelings in check. Oh, really. Comrades, huh? Hayato hopped off his shoulder, flying underneath the low ceiling, and GalaxE thought that the conversation was over.